


Folgers Crystals

by Zanne



Category: Dark Angel, Supernatural
Genre: Gen, prompts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-07
Updated: 2011-06-07
Packaged: 2017-10-19 21:49:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/205580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zanne/pseuds/Zanne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two transgenics and two Winchesters meet up in a bar...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Folgers Crystals

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [](http://nativestar.livejournal.com/profile)[**nativestar**](http://nativestar.livejournal.com/)   for beta-ing! This is based on two combined prompts by [](http://trcunning.livejournal.com/profile)[**trcunning**](http://trcunning.livejournal.com/)  - 1. _Dark Angel_ : Alec, Joshua, pack and 2.  _Supernatural_ : Bobby, Trickster, coffee. Kripke owns  _Supernatural_ and James Cameron owns _Dark Angel_.

“Alec? Whatchya doin’ Alec?” Joshua picked up a pair of socks and sniffed them suspiciously, his large brown eyes studying Alec’s stressed features as he continued to throw things into his duffel bag.

Alec ignored him, the faint patter of Seattle’s endless rain a soothing hum beneath the almost palpable tension buzzing in the room, the peeling wallpaper rustling as if Alec’s mood was pressing futilely against the walls in an attempt to escape – to be anywhere but there, at that moment.

Joshua’s restless fidgeting broke the heavy silence, forcing Alec to acknowledge the other transgenic, even if he had hoped to delay the inevitable for as long as possible.

“Packing,” Alec snapped, not looking at the dog man when Joshua whuffed a whine that made Alec’s neck prickle with guilt. “I gotta get out of here, Joshua. Things are just…not cool.”

“What not cool? No…AC?”

A smirk tugged at the corner of Alec’s mouth before he shook his head, moving gracefully back and forth between the battered dresser and the unmade bed. “I gotta get out of Seattle for a while. Things are too tense these days. I know Max has everything covered in Terminal City; I need some space….”

Joshua nodded sharply, his tangled brown hair swinging over his face as he disappeared out the door, only to reappear seconds later with a stack of messily folded clothes clasped in his arms.

“Me, too.” He started to pile some of his things on top of Alec’s, making the man step back and frown at him in confusion, a hairbrush clenched forgotten in his hand.

“What are you doing?”

“Packing.”

“In my bag?”

“I need…space,” Joshua agreed with another curt bob of his head, smiling in Alec’s direction. “I share space with you.”

Alec looked doubtful, a reluctant smile warring with an air of expected disappointment. “You sure Max doesn’t need you?”

“Max lone wolf,” Joshua explained with a sheepish shrug, glancing over at Alec from between the concealing hanks of his hair. “We’re…pack – so I pack.” He casually swatted at Alec’s chest and hit it with a resounding thump, a muted expression of discomfort flickering over Alec’s face at the impact.

Alec huffed a breath, rubbing at his chest. “If we’re goin’ on a road trip, Joshua, you’ll need your own bag. I’m not keeping your chew toys in with my delicates.” 

                                                                                    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~

While news of transgenics had spread far beyond the borders of Seattle during the long siege in Terminal City, that didn’t mean they were a welcome addition to the good ol’ US of A melting pot, tossed salad, cereal bowl full of flakes, fruits and nuts…whatever metaphor was the catch phrase of the day. Most of the American population still treated them as an unwanted side dish to be pushed as far away from the family table as possible.

Which meant Alec couldn’t take his motorcycle because that left Joshua’s ears flapping in the breeze, so to speak. Not to mention severely limited what they could pack; Alec wasn’t going on a combat mission, so he’d like to be able to take more than basic rations and extra ammunition.

So he traded it in for a 1970 Dodge Challenger that had seen better days, painted an inky black with subtle blue piping on the hood. The good news was that it had some kind of souped-up engine, which reassured Alec’s inherent need for speed, and a trunk big enough to fit…well, big enough to fit Joshua’s hulking mass should Alec snap and decide to kill him for his endless chattering.

The bad news? It was a Dodge Challenger, and it drank gas like an off-duty Marine on a bender.

This meant a few more stops along the road to stock up on much needed cash, in the manner in which Manticore and their giant brain trust had unwittingly designed Alec as the perfect weapon - hustling pool. 

                                                                                  ~~~~~~~~~~~~

Alec waved cheerily at Joshua to keep him placated as the burly biker growled at the slender transgenic over the pool table, gripping his cue in his meaty fist as he tried to stare Alec down. With Alec’s reassurance, Joshua settled back in the dark corner booth with a subdued snarl, acknowledging the lack of threat with an uncoordinated wave in return. His large paw knocked over one of the empty plastic pitchers dotting the table, sending it rolling with a loud rattle, until it fell off the table and landed with a soft thump on the vinyl seat across from him.

Shrinking back at the sudden turn of heads in his direction, Joshua clumsily tugged his navy hoodie further forward to make sure his muzzle was fully covered; Alec had warned him that they didn’t need the extra attention being a transgenic might bring out beyond the borders of Seattle. Once Joshua felt assured he was still safely disguised, he lifted the remaining pitcher of beer to his mouth with both hands and stuck his face in it, awkwardly lapping up the foamy beverage and spilling some of it down his shirtfront, the large quantity of malted beverage making his head buzz even louder.

He liked Alec. Alec let him try new things, didn’t think he needed to be kept from experiencing the real world, didn’t act like Joshua was some shameful secret that could never be a part of what went on outside of his locked doors. Max had never let him try _anything_ – not even this, Joshua grumbled internally, digging his nose further into the pitcher to reach the dregs at the bottom - even when he asked _nicely_.

It wasn’t fair. He had often smelled it on her when she came to visit, the scent of O.C., Logan and the place he knew to be Crash strongly entrenched in the fabric of her clothes and seeping freely from her pores, making him want to take a little lick to see if he could taste it, too. But he’d tried that once, and all he’d gotten was a punch in the arm and a nauseous feeling in his belly. She’d tasted of lotion, cigarettes, and sweat, the bitter mix of flavors coating her skin making him gag and sneeze all at once.

Alec hadn’t tasted nearly as bad when Joshua had test-licked him – a little soap and a tart tingle on the sides of his tongue - and hadn’t punched him for it, either. He just told Joshua to save that shit for when he found a woman, but to aim a little lower.

Joshua didn’t know what that meant, but Alec always seemed to be right about things like that. He had said beer was good, and this beer…it was _good_. It tickled his nose and made his belly all warm and full. His head felt…floaty, and he giggled when he saw Alec purposefully miss a shot to push the “friendly” wager even higher.  
   
“Floaty!” Joshua called out in encouragement, his laughter deteriorating into a series of sharp yips, his teeth bared in startling white in the dimness of his corner when he smiled over at Alec.

Alec just threw him a worried look before glancing back at the large wad of cash sitting on the edge of the pool table. With a shrug, he held a finger to his mouth, silently urging Joshua to be quiet.

Joshua nodded wildly in understanding.

Oh…. _oh_. That didn’t make his stomach feel good at all. 

                                                                                 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Sam, you’re lucky you waited until we stopped to throw up,” Dean growled, dragging his brother into the bar by the front of his dark blue hoodie. “If you had soiled my baby, you’d be _walking_ to Missoula.”

Sam’s rather green face peered at him from the depths of his hood, and he lurched on his feet as he hiccoughed, holding a hand over his mouth as his eyes widened in urgency.

“Go!” Dean ordered, shoving Sam towards where he guessed the restrooms had to be, the dimly lit entry set in the scratched wood paneling so similar to every other back road bar they usually frequented. “I’m going to get us some coffee since we have to make ourselves scarce, thanks to your drunken ass ruining my hustle.”

Sam wobbled his way towards the restroom, disappearing down the hallway.

Dean’s head turned when he heard the faint clacking of billiard balls in the next room, the temptation to take a few minutes to make up some of their lost cash almost overwhelming.

But he hadn’t been kidding when he told Sam they had a time limit. There were some very angry men not too far behind them, men that might feel the need to come looking once they sobered up a little.

Dean rapped on the top of the bar with his knuckles, getting the bartender’s attention.

“Another pitcher?” the man asked casually. “Not sure your friend can handle it,” he said, jerking his head towards the back room.

“He should’ve learned not to mix tequila and beer by now,” Dean said, still distracted by the call of the pool tables. “We’ll take two large coffees to-go – black.”

“Sure thing.”

Dean turned to lean back against the counter, tossing a smile at a pretty blonde by the jukebox. Didn’t hurt to kill some time with casual flirting while Sam prayed to the porcelain gods.

“Hey,” he called over his shoulder. “Could ya tell me if you see the Jolly Green Giant make his way out of the bathroom? He’s got no sense of direction when he’s drunk.”

The bartender nodded, though by this time Dean was fully focused on the woman, upping the wattage on his smile and angling in her direction. He barely noticed the bartender resting two travel containers of coffee near his elbow, or the loud thwapping of the door to the restrooms swinging open and closed.

“I think your friend completed his business,” the bartender said after a moment, tilting his head in the direction of the tall, hooded man swaying unsteadily on his feet.

“Sasquatch!” Dean shouted with a grin, making the tall figure wince away from the noise. “That was quick! Here.” He shoved one of the coffees into his hand and grabbed the front of his sweatshirt, guiding him towards the exit. “C’mon, we’ve got some time to make up.”

Dean wrangled Sam into the car, cupping his head to keep him from braining himself on the doorframe, the coffee sloshing out of the tiny opening in the top of the cup.

“Dude,” Dean panted breathlessly as he slid behind the wheel. “You gained like a hundred pounds in the bathroom. I’m not carrying your heavy ass anywhere else, got it?”

His passenger responded with a muffled snore, his body slumping against the door with his face tucked against the window, his features buried in the depths of his hood. The coffee cup tilted precariously in his grip, and Dean took a moment to figure out the logistics before gulping his lukewarm coffee down and tossing the empty cup out of the car window, snatching the loosely held cup from his brother’s grasp.

“Damn…remind me to tell you to trim your nails,” Dean grumbled, sucking on a scratch across the back of his hand. “You’ve got freakin’ claws like a chupacabra.”

The only response was a soft, snuffling bark, which made Dean laugh as he eased the Impala out onto the road. “Sleep it off, Sammy.” He wrinkled his nose, sniffing absently in his brother’s direction. “You get first shower when we get there; you smell like a wet dog in a brewery.” 

                                                                                 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Sasquatch!” Alec hissed, grabbing the tall, hooded figure that staggered its way out of the bathroom not a moment later. “Let’s go.”

Alec dragged him towards the door more forcefully, glancing back over his shoulder and tilting his head to listen to the rising angry hum behind him. “They aren’t exactly happy about losing. We need to hit the road.”

He paused, taking a sniff of the man standing next to him. “You smell like tequila. When did you start hittin’ the hard stuff? Gotta make sure to keep the leash on you, next time we go out.”

Alec laughed, the loud burst of sound making the other man groan, and Alec slapped at his arm before herding him out the door. 

                                                                                 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Can I get ya anything?” the bartender asked the small man seated at the bar, who was busy watching the shorter man guiding his rather large associate outside.

The man gave him a sly smile, his sharp-faced features widening in his glee. “You ever have a perfect day? It’s like a vacation…the gods have smiled upon me and given me a gift. I must have been a very good boy this year.”

The bartender just shrugged. “You want a drink or not?”

“A pitcher, my good man. I’m expecting company.”

The Trickster leaned artfully against the counter, winking at the blonde woman across the way. He barely acknowledged the groan of complaint the bar stool made beside him when his guest dropped into the seat.

“What in the hell do you want now?” Bobby grumbled, pouring himself a glass once the pitcher was delivered. “You said you had news.”

The Trickster gave the woman another sly smile before turning his attention to Bobby, completely ignoring his demand. “I think I’m gonna hang out with you tomorrow. Tomorrow looks like it’s going to be a _very_ interesting day.”

  


  



End file.
